


A Night Without Stars

by MusicalRaven



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalRaven/pseuds/MusicalRaven
Summary: "I love you"





	A Night Without Stars

**Author's Note:**

> So I had most of this old thing written, just finished off the last few paragraphs. I am still working on my other fivs, just slowly, as usual.

"I love you."

John said the words with practiced precision, the result of repeating the phrase to himself in the mirror several hundred times. He'd been thinking on this for weeks now, going over the various ways he could say it. Long speeches, complicated phrases- any other way he knew Sherlock would detest. It had to be simple. To the point. The actual words themselves were just what he'd needed.

All this information flickered through Sherlock's mind the second John spoke. The image of him stuttering and flushing red as he said the words came to his head, as he knew John must have denied this idea a million times over. And to be perfectly honest, Sherlock wished he'd kept on doing so.

He chose to ignore him, eyes locked on his phone screen. If he did so long enough, John would likely give up and stomp away like a petulant child back to his wife. His infatuation with Sherlock was merely passing, so Sherlock found no need to acknowledge the words.

"I know you can hear me, Sherlock." John said, frustration already leaking into his voice. The nervousness was still there as well, causing a slight stutter at the end of his name. John could never really keep his composure though, especially not in emotionally charged situations. He was careless with his heart, an obvious mistake.

Sherlock continued to flip through his phone, photos of autopsy reports and police reports that he supposedly shouldn't have access to flickered across the screen, and Sherlock scanned each one with careful precision. Gunshot would to the temple and no ligature marks on the wrist; obviously knew the murderer. Stomach contents suggest a date, probably off tinder as desperate as she was. Found hanging though, either sloppy or the killer wanted to mock the family, likely the second option considering her multiple suicide attempts–

The phone was suddenly snatched out of his grip, his fingers flexing around air. Slowly, he glanced up at a silently fuming John, a bored look firmly planted on his own face.

"Do you want me to congratulate you?" Sherlock asked, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. The hurt that flickered in John's eyes was expected, although it made something pang in his own chest. However, he dismissed it. Pointless to dwell on such feelings. John was acting irrationally, and that course needed correction.

"Look, John." Sherlock continued, eyes locked with John's. He ignored the slight pang again, made easier by the wall that was forming behind John's eyes. "I'm married to my work. I told you this at the beginning of our partnership." He shrugged. "Sentiments towards the contrary are pointless and should be avoided."

"Did you ever think," John hissed, fists clenched at his side. "Everything doesn't revolve around you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I could say the same to you, as you seem to have already forgotten your wife for this meer infatuation."

"Meer- Do you think I came up with this yesterday or something?" John asked, incredious. Sherlock sighed.

"A few months is not nearly enough time to form anything more, John."

"Years, Sherlock." John said. Sherlock blinked, watching John shake his head. "It's been fucking years and I work up the courage to tell you and-" He swallowed hard. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't have expected much else."

Before Sherlock could form a coherent thought, John stomped off, the creak of the stairs heavy in the silence. Sherlock stared at the wall near where John had just occupied, blinking and blinking.

'Years, Sherlock.' He heard John say. Logically, a bond of that sort, romantic or- well, he supposed romantic- formed over that long could only mean John wasn't just infatuated with him. He was in love with him.

The pang was back again. This time, he didn't push it away. Instead, he sat back and curled his legs to his chest. John's words rang in his ears and he closed his eyes. Whether he liked it or not, he too could feel the hint of sentiment in the back of his mind. And it wasn't going away this time.


End file.
